Entertainment

Michael Fassbender madly haunts the doom-metal version of 'Macbeth'

Michael Fassbender has one particular smile, a spine-­chilling rictus grin, which seems to come from just this side of the grave. The cold mystery of that smile is, in a strange way, part of his tremendous appeal.

Fassbender only deploys that look a few times while playing the lord who takes the throne of Scotland by treachery and violence. Even one flash of that grin, however, reveals much about the madness of his particular Macbeth, especially when accompanied by the line “how full of scorpions is my mind.”

Macbeth is the bold and sonorous new Shakespeare adaptation directed by Justin Kurzel from a script by Jacob Koskoff, Michael Leslie, and Todd Louiso. The play is tweaked, just slightly, into the story of a psychologically broken couple whose brutal move to seize power is complicated by their own deep losses and frailties, a violent tragedy made even more potent by the injection of raw new character pathology.

This is a Macbeth of slo­-mo battle scenes cut to suggest hallucinations and haze rather than the excitement of Braveheart. It’s thick, wet, grey air on the beautifully ­photographed moors of Scotland, and flashes of minor­-key gallows humor to appeal to bleak hearts in the audience. This is the doom-metal version of Macbeth, heavy and ponderous and crushingly effective.

The first images depict the funeral of an infant, the child of Lord and Lady Macbeth. That’s an alteration of the play, which opens with a convocation of witches who prophesy Lord Macbeth’s rise and fall. (Don’t worry, the witches show up soon enough.)

The loss of child grounds Lady Macbeth’s quick shift to callousness, and adds pointed horror to her already ­petrifying line “come to my woman’s breasts, and take my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers.” The promise of power is a scant replacement for a son, but for this Lady it will do.

Fassbender’s Macbeth is battle­-scarred. His eyes are hollow and haunted. He’s liable to lose himself in a moment, even in the middle of battle when he is transfixed by the aforementioned witches, who may or may not be “real.” Macbeth’s friend Banquo (Paddy Considine) sees them, too, but he may be possessed by a more minor form of the mania that afflicts Macbeth, so perhaps he’s not to be trusted.

Marion Cotillard in "Macbeth."

Marion Cotillard, as Lady Macbeth, delivers a devastating performance, initially determined and vicious. She’s more than capable of matching the bleakness of Shakespeare’s dialogue in which the Lady eagerly anticipates convincing her lord to seize the throne by any means necessary. As the horror of her husband’s actions begins to weigh upon her conscience, Cotillard evinces an unease that escalates slowly into revulsion and isolation.

Kunzel and the screenwriters emphasize the fragile mental state of each character by removing some figures, often leaving Fassbender and Cotillard to occupy the frame alone. Servants and other types recede into a background hubbub, if they’re around at all. The script has a tight grip on the core of the play, and is ruthless about pruning away anything that does not suit its purpose.

Likewise, Kurzel maintains strict control over the film’s entire sense of scale. Clashing forces are not sprawling armies, but smaller units of men and, in one case, boys. Macbeth’s home is little more than a collection of tents and hovels upon a moor. This is a small community, one in which Macbeth’s violent acts cannot possibly be attributed to chance or other hands for very long.

Macbeth’s throne room at Dunsinane is spare and open, but not in any way inviting; it resembles Jack Torrance’s Overlook Hotel writing room in Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining. That link is another fine signal to the ways in which this film approaches the character’s mental state.

Michael Fassbender and a mind full of scorpions.

Dialogue is primarily drawn directly from the original text. Macbeth is not an inviting film; it requires a bit of dedication, and an attentive ear. Characters speak in murmurs and hushed voices. Frequently, Kurzel seems to be taking inspiration from Christopher Nolan’s approach to sound in Interstellar: keep the key lines “up,” let some surrounding conversations go low. (I’d swear the audio mix has been significantly brightened for the film’s trailer.)

Devotees of film scores by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis (The Proposition, The Road) will be entranced; others may find that the score contributes to a tone that could be called ... unwavering. (Jed Kurzel, by the way, also scored the terrific Slow West, also starring Fassbender.)

Let's be straight: Macbeth in any form is a big downer. The story is powerful, but possibly the most black-­hearted of all the classics, a buzzing voice that whispers insanity. Kurzel’s film proposes, softly, some ideas that focus the tragedy. It commits fully to its own idiosyncrasies and preoccupations.

There’s nothing soft or accommodating about this movie, but there is also nothing casual or off­handed. Everything is here for a reason, and that makes it as unequivocally “Macbeth” as anything we can imagine.

Mashable
is a global, multi-platform media and entertainment company. Powered by its own proprietary technology, Mashable is the go-to source for tech, digital culture and entertainment content for its dedicated and influential audience around the globe.